


Party Time

by Rod



Series: Practice Makes Perfect [4]
Category: CI5: The New Professionals
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rod/pseuds/Rod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Backup unexpectedly meets a friend of a friend while out information-gathering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party Time

Tina Backus looked beyond bored. She gave every appearance of being the sort of young woman whose date had stood her up for a more interesting football match, but who still hoped that he'd show up anyway. Sitting at the bar in the Flash! Club — the exclamation mark seemed to be obligatory — she clutched a tiny handbag close, nursed a martini like it was her only friend, and appeared to be trying to look like she didn't care.

In fact her busy eyes were sweeping the crowd constantly not for a date but for one Michael Delacourt, arms dealer and bon viveur. Delacourt had recently acquired an interest in the club for reasons that Spencer had not yet been able to fathom, so Tina had been assigned to check out the establishment while other operatives were infiltrated onto the staff. It wasn't considered likely that Delacourt would use the club for his other business interests, but there was always the chance of getting someone into his main organisation.

Watching and acting didn't actually take up all that much of Tina's concentration. Such things were after all second nature for any CI5 operative, and Tina prided herself on being one of the best of the best. Instead, she was mostly thinking about her friends and colleagues, Chris Keel and Sam Curtis.

It had been a few weeks since Chris and Sam had finally become a couple, and most of CI5 was still oblivious to their relationship. The difference was obvious to Tina though, and she didn't understand how their co-workers could miss it. The two of them practically glowed, and if their partnership had been one of CI5's best before it was positively stellar now. Even Richards had taken to calling them the Wonder Twins, wondering aloud just what deeply implausible piece of work they would manage to pull off next.

Tina had mixed feelings about Chris and Sam getting together. On the one hand, it had been painfully obvious to her that the two men loved each other. The lingering glances, the coolness whenever one or the other brought a girlfriend along on one of their evenings out, the lengths they went to for each other, that had all spoken of something far more than mere partnership. Getting them together... well, Tina was all for increasing the net happiness of the universe. It was one of the reasons why she had joined CI5, after all.

On the other hand, she had wanted Chris for herself. It was never going to happen, she knew that; Chris only had eyes for Sam, no matter what she did. That had hurt, but trying to break them apart would have hurt more. She regretted not fighting harder for Chris, but she would have regretted even more keeping him from Sam. She would always have been second best.

So Tina had put her personal desires to one side, and had subtly helped the two of them to get together while managing not to appear too miserable about the whole business. Not for the first time she had been grateful that CI5's training included how to keep your real emotions off your face. Chris and Sam wouldn't have noticed her sadness, they were too wrapped up in each other, but the possibility of Malone finding out was just too embarrassing for words.

It had been something of a relief to find that Sam's friend Danny felt much the same. Misery loves company, and the two of them had soon become firm friends. Each of them found a confidente in the other, someone they could talk with about the disasters that were their love lives. Tina had even considered dating him; he was smart, attractive and all too well aware of the demands and dangers of her job. Unfortunately while they liked each other, there was nothing more than friendship between them. The spark just wasn't there.

Danny was doing reasonably well for himself after being released from hospital. True to his word, he had stopped being a rent boy and had started work for Sam's father. Tina wasn't entirely sure how that had happened; Sam had been as close-mouthed as ever about his family, but from what Tina could gather harsh words had been exchanged. Danny didn't exactly live in fear of his new boss, but it was clear that Mr Curtis accepted him only grudgingly.

It was a good thing, Tina reflected, that adversity tended to make Danny stubborn. He was working hard towards his instructor's qualifications to spite his employer as much as anything, and was even (after some world-class subtle nudging by herself and Sam) taking evening classes to make up for his lack of GCSEs. Somehow in all this he still found time to get out and have a life, either down the pub with Sam, Chris and Tina, or clubbing with his old friends.

His old friends...

Tina swore mentally as her gaze lit on a vaguely familiar figure heading her way from the dance floor. Andy something-or-other, the one who had visited Danny in hospital. Gorgeous countryside accent, broadly built, and apparently perfectly capable of recognising her. Rawnsley, her mental Rolodex finally supplied. Andy Rawnsley. Tina lifted her glass in greeting.

"Good evening, ma'am," he said, smiling broadly. Tina couldn't help smiling back. That soft accent was going to get her every time.

"Hello there, Andy," she said. "Please, call me Tina. It's not like we've only just met."

Andy hesitated. "Well, if you insist, Miss Tina."

"I asked for that didn't I? Can I get you a drink?"

"Mmm. Orange and soda, please."

Tina raised an eyebrow at that. Andy wasn't dressed to impress, but the lack of alcohol was suggestive. "Are you working tonight, then?" she asked.

"Sort of." He must have belatedly remembered that she was in law enforcement, because he looked alarmed for a moment. "It's totally legit," he added hurriedly. "This guy just wants a bunch of good-looking party hosts. We're supposed to meet up here beforehand."

"I thought there were caterers that did that sort of thing, or people hired out of work actors?"

"Seems like we're cheaper. Besides, I always wanted to be an actor."

Tina laughed, then flagged down the bartender and ordered two orange and sodas. Andy gave her a fishy look. "Does that mean you're working too," he asked her suspiciously.

"It means I don't fancy another martini right now." Largely because she was working, true, but there was no need to spoil his evening. "Don't worry, I've got no intention of making life difficult for you or your friends."

He looked relieved and a touch embarrassed, which made Tina smile again. Andy had a very open face, she thought, and probably had no idea how much his emotions showed. It was charming, but it didn't presage well for an acting career.

They chatted for a while, swapping gossip about the world in general and friends — meaning Danny — in particular. As the other party hosts arrived Andy introduced them to Tina, relaxing as the crowd increased in size. He was clearly happier with more people he knew about, people who would take over the conversation and not require him to do all the work. Even when they teased him about his "new girlfriend" — which was, she reflected, better than being accused of being siblings — he just rolled his eyes and shook his head, or made some quiet, understated joke about the state of the questioner's own love life.

They seemed a happy enough bunch. Tina's trained eyes had no problem picking out signs of substance abuse, but no one there had the feverish eyes or the hollow appearance of the truly lost. They would tend not to be, of course; they had been hired to look decorative, and too many track marks would not go down well. Tina found herself warming to them, despite the vast difference between their lifestyle and hers. She might have the maturity, the money and the job that could make a difference, but there in the club they somehow seemed more alive than she did.

Also more likely to make a drama out of a crisis, she thought as she listened to the woes of a young man called Steve. Apparently the fact that his girlfriend had come down with mild food poisoning was a tragedy of epic proportions. Tina didn't really see what all the fuss was about; the girl was going to recover, and might even have learned where not to buy kebabs from. "It could be worse," she said, trying to be sympathetic.

"Worse?" Steve looked at her in amazement. "She's all but married to the loo, and we're one short for tonight. How could it be worse?"

"You've still got a few minutes," one of the other boys said jokingly. "If you're really lucky you might find someone willing to take Jackie's place."

Tina snickered with the others as Steve moaned and held his head in his hands. Then he looked up at her. "How about you, Tina? Would you help out a friend in dire need?"

"What? No way!" I only do things like that in the name of international peace and security, she thought to herself. "As friends go I've known you for about ten minutes, and the only dire need here is your girlfriend's need for the toilet."

"Come on, it'll be fun," Steve pleaded. "Just think of all the opportunities for the taking, escorting the not very rich and not very famous."

"You make it sound so glamorous."

"Seriously, it's easy money for being polite and carrying trays of drinks."

"Being pawed by drunks isn't that appealing, really."

"Anything like that is a strictly private negotiation between you and the clients," someone else said primly.

Steve rolled his eyes. "In other words, you are allowed to tell them where to get off. C'mon, it's not like I've got any time left."

"About thirty seconds," Andy said softly. Tina followed his glance over her shoulder, and by dint of long training did not react. Turning back, she was hit by the full force of Steve's puppy-dog eyes. She sighed.

"All right," she said, "just this once, and only because you're desperate. Don't think I'll forget this, though. You owe me, mister."

Amongst the general celebrations, Tina saw Andy frowning at her. "Later," she mouthed to him, then turned with the others as their employer for the evening arrived.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Michael Delacourt."

*****

Tina had to admit that there were worse people to be working for than Delacourt, at least as far as the entertainment side went. He had been openly amiable towards his staff for the evening, repeatedly stressing that all he expected of them was to act as serving staff. Any other arrangements that they might come to were entirely their own business, and he didn't want to know about them.

Delacourt then laid down the law about where staff were and were not permitted to go. The party was to take place in his yacht on the Thames, moored only a short walk from the club, and as such there were some obvious rules to be followed. No entry to the bridge, for example, or anywhere near the engines, and no horseplay on deck where anyone might fall overboard. He also insisted on there being no smoking below decks, except in the marked cabins, and no drugs anywhere. "You may not care for your health," he said, "but I care about mine."

Meaning, Tina thought, that he didn't want to be pulled in for someone else's stupidity. The lessons of many a less discriminating criminal were apparently not lost on him.

Delacourt had also provided suitable clothing for his waiting staff, and set aside a couple of cramped cabins as changing rooms. White shirts and black trousers or skirts were available in a variety of sizes. There were even pre-tied bow ties "for those who absolutely cannot manage the real thing."

Tina chuckled at the memory of Delacourt's jovial sarcasm; under other circumstances she could have quite liked the man. If only that humorous surface didn't cover a cynic who would happily sell weapons to anyone that would pay him well enough.

Entering the yacht's main party room — or ball room, or whatever it was supposed to be called — Tina caught sight of Andy Rawnsley still fiddling with his tie. He looked uncomfortable in formal wear, but then so did nearly every male she knew. Only Malone seemed to be able to carry it off without changing his bad-tempered demeanour; even Chris, who should be used to constricting uniforms, always looked like he was longing to slip into T-shirt and jeans.

Smiling, she walked over and took control of the errant tie. "Here, let me."

Andy smiled back, letting her work. "I hate these things," he complained.

"Everyone does," she told him, stepping back to ensure that his clothing was adjusted to her satisfaction. "Why you men insist on wearing them is beyond me."

He shrugged. "I suppose you've got to suffer to be stylish," he said, then surprised her by leaning down to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "You're working, aren't you," he whispered into her ear.

"Not that you or your friends need to worry about," she whispered back. "Nothing bad is happening tonight."

He straightened back up and looked at her, anxiety still showing on his face.

Tina gave him her best reassuring smile. "Come on," she said, "the guests are starting to arrive."

The next hour or so passed in a blur of activity. The party was in full swing before Tina decided she could safely slip away to do a little snooping of her own. She was a little reluctant to do it; attending one of these events was quite revealing in and of itself given how little attention the guests seemed to pay to the serving staff, although she had found the ease with which her fellow waiters had slipped into "yes sir, no sir, let me bat my eyelashes at you sir" personas quite alarming. Still, there was all sorts of chaos going on in the background just to keep the food and drinks circulating, and no one had a hope of keeping track of who was where. In fact Tina was pretty sure that at least one of the girls had already made a "private arrangement", so even if anyone saw her head towards the cabins they were unlikely to comment on it.

Making sure that all her useful kit was tucked inconspicuously away, Tina walked nonchalantly down the cramped corridor to the staff cabins. Once out of sight she moved faster, looking for Delacourt's personal cabin. In an ideal world she'd be on a radio link to Spencer, who would have pulled the plans of a yacht of this design to guide her in. Unfortunately she'd only been able to risk a quick phone call "to let her friends know where she was going", during which Spencer had been able to pass on some general guidelines from Chris. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

It was just as well that large as it was, the yacht was still only a pleasure boat, not a liner. There weren't that many places that the master cabin could be, and it didn't take Tina long to locate the single locked door that gave it away. Pausing to make sure that no one else was in the corridor and no security cameras were present, she slipped some lock picks from her sleeve and was soon into the cabin.

Delacourt's cabin-cum-office was spacious, well-appointed and annoyingly tidy. It was clearly mainly used to impress select guests, which meant that there were some comfortable chairs, a large desk and a very large number of cupboards lining the walls, any of which had only a small chance of holding something of interest to CI5. Tina focused on the desk drawers first, hoping to find Delacourt's social diary at least.

The desk was locked, which was a good sign. Tina opened it with little trouble, rifling quickly through for anything interesting. Finding a diary, she slipped out her mobile phone with its concealed camera and recorded Delacourt's engagements for the next few weeks. There were a number of obvious gaps given how much Delacourt seemed to appreciate the high life, making it clear that Tina's work was not yet done here.

She restored the diary to its desk drawer and relocked it, carefully smudging the tell-tale scratches her lock picks had made. The rest of the desk proved uninteresting, and Tina moved on to the cabinets around the walls. She was in the process of casting an amused eye over Delacourt's tastelessly exotic selection of alcohol when she heard a familiar accent outside the door.

****

"Mr Delacourt, sir?"

Michael Delacourt paused with his key in his cabin door and turned to see one of his waiters for the evening shuffling nervously from foot to foot. He smiled automatically, wondering what disaster had occurred in the few moments his back had been turned on his party. "Please don't tell me we've run out of champagne," he asked plaintively.

The young man looked confused. "No, sir, not 'sfar as I know any rate."

"Then what has happened now?"

"I, um, I was wondering sir—"

"A bad habit to get into," Delacourt said rather abruptly. The waiter's soft Dorset accent was pleasant to listen to, but he didn't really have the time right at the moment. "Spit it out, man."

The waiter had the grace to look embarrassed at least. "It's... have you seen Tina, sir? My girlfriend, she's a bit shorter than me, older..." He trailed off in the face of Delacourt's look of mildly exasperated amusement.

"Let me guess, she is one of my hostesses for the evening, you haven't seen her since some old buffer started chatting her up, and you're getting worried that she might prefer mutton to lamb?" The young man nodded unhappily, and Delacourt smiled lightly to cover his contempt for the idiot. "My dear boy, that really is something that you should have considered before taking up my offer of employment. If your darling Tina is indeed, ah, testing the openness of your relationship then I must insist that the two of you work the matter out in your own time. Right now, I believe you are supposed to be waiting on my guests?"

"Uh, yes sir. Sorry, sir." The waiter hung his head but made no immediate move back to the party.

"As well you should be," Delacourt snapped. "Go."

This time his tone brooked no argument, and he was pleased to see the young man scurry away. Oaf, he thought as he opened the cabin door. He would have to see to it that his serving staff were more carefully selected in future; appearance simply wasn't enough when they lacked even basic common sense.

Outside, clinging to the side of the boat, Tina Backus gave silent thanks that she was still slim enough to have slipped through the port hole.

****

Much later, after thoroughly searching Delacourt's cabin once he was safely back in the party, Tina managed to corner Andy for as private a word as they were going to get. He gave her a worried stare as she approached. "Did you—"

"Later," she interrupted, a warning in her voice despite the smile on her face. Her next words were warmer, however. "I just wanted to say thank you, and don't you ever do anything like that again."

A fully fledged grin broke out on Andy's face. "Right you are, ma'am," he said, "no more getting thanked."

"Twit," Tina told him fondly, and was surprised when he pulled her into a hug. "What's all this for?"

"Told him you were my girl, didn't I?" He let go of her and stood back a little, still grinning broadly. "Can't get my girl back without letting her know she's appreciated."

There was a cough behind her. "Touching as this scene may be," came Delacourt's voice, "I believe you both have work to do."

Andy gulped audibly. "Yes sir, sorry sir," he stammered out before Tina silence him with a finger on his lips. For her part she turned and gave Delacourt a brilliant smile before towing her 'boyfriend' over to where more trays of drinks awaited them.

They spent the rest of the evening smiling, serving food and drink, and gently deflecting the occasional less salubrious request for service. That caused one or two raised eyebrows from Andy's friends, but those were more than covered by their smirks at the way he tended to hover around Tina. On the whole she felt that the cover they had unwittingly provided her with back in the bar was still intact.

As the party wound down and the staff cleared away the debris Tina played along, flirting back at Andy. It wasn't exactly a hardship; he was good looking obviously, otherwise he wouldn't have been hired for the evening, and he wasn't exactly stupid even if he wouldn't know a cryptographic algorithm if he was introduced to it. What she wasn't so sure about was whether it was fair on him.

Tina felt like she was leading him on. She'd used him to get into Delacourt's party; that was pretty much standard operating procedure for CI5, taking a opportunity when it presented itself. He'd played along, not that he'd had a lot of choice, and she'd used that too.

Feeling guilty about doing her job was not something that Tina Backus was used to. It was more usually one of the male agents who formed an inappropriate relationship in the middle of an operation, getting an innocent person into trouble. Now it was her turn, however much of a stretch it might be to call Andy innocent, and however much this wasn't a romantic relationship. It was more difficult than she'd thought.

Andy's tired but happy sigh broke through her brooding. "All done here," he said. "Are you ready to go?"

Tina smiled up at her 'boyfriend'. "Just let me grab my purse."

The two of them debarked and walked back towards the club arm in arm, to all appearances a happy couple. Tina suppressed another twinge of guilt; Andy knew full well that they only playing a part, she was definitely not leading him on.

"So," he said quietly when they reached her car, "what exactly shouldn't I be doing again?"

Tina sighed. She owed him that much of the truth., "Our host this evening, Michael Delacourt? He's an arms dealer. If he'd seriously thought that you were up to something tonight, we'd have found your body floating in the river tomorrow."

Andy rocked back a bit. "What about you?" he asked. "I just talked to him, what if he'd found you sneaking about?"

"I'm a trained agent, and I'd have had the advantage of surprise. I could have handled the situation." Although, she thought, if she had been identified it could have gone badly for her Andy, the person who had brought her along. That wasn't something she wanted on her conscience. "Thanks for the helping hand, but it would be safer if you didn't get involved."

Andy shook his head. "I couldn't not get involved," he said, "not now as I know you. Besides, everyone was already calling me your boyfriend, he might have thought something was fishy if I didn't check up on you."

"You still shouldn't have been there," Tina insisted. "God knows I'm going to get reamed out enough by my boss for putting a civilian at risk—"

"I'm already at risk."

The words hung between them for a moment, stopping Tina cold.

"The way I live, what I do for work, there's always a risk I won't get back to my own bed. Even more normal people than me... even if I did manage to make a go of acting, something could still happen. I could get mugged on the Underground, be standing in a bank when it's robbed, get knocked down by a car, anything like that. There's so many risks around that we can't control, you shouldn't get so het up about it."

"This was a risk I could control, though," Tina pointed out. "You shouldn't have been there. That's what my job's about, keeping people like you out of danger."

"I was there, though, and I knew that helping you might get me hurt. But not helping you might get you hurt. It weren't a hard choice."

Tina looked up at his earnest face and sighed, knowing that she had no chance of changing his mind. "Has anyone ever told you you're an unreasonably stubborn man?"

"One or two folks might have mentioned it," he said with a grin.

"Well for my sake, please leave it to the professionals next time you see trouble."

A variety of expressions flitted across Andy's face too quickly for Tina to be sure of them. His huge grin was unmistakable, though. "Since you asked so nicely," he said. Then something seemed to occur to him, and he fished a piece of card out of his pocket and scribbled on it. "Just for the alibi," he mumbled as he handed it over, avoiding her gaze.

Tina looked at the scrawled phone number and shook her head, smiling. "You want a warning next time?" she asked.

He grinned. "I was thinking maybe of finding something a bit less risky to do."

Tina laughed. "It's a date," she said.


End file.
